


Rarely Pure and Never Simple

by WritingQuill



Series: Prompts et al [10]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: (of sorts), Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Established Relationship, Intervention, Love, M/M, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-03 23:08:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1759255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingQuill/pseuds/WritingQuill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry goes to dinner at 221b Baker Street and Sherlock forces her to deal with her alcoholism and to stop hurting John. </p><p> </p><p>Based on a prompt on tumblr by brittani.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rarely Pure and Never Simple

**Author's Note:**

> Oh god I am an awful person. I got all these prompts ages ago but I had a lot of uni work to get through and then I got very lazy. Writer's block attacked, and look at all these excuses aren't they pretty? 
> 
> Anyway, I'm so sorry it took me so long to get to this (I can't even find the blog of the person who prompted this anymore! I'm so shit!), but here it is. 
> 
> The title is from Oscar Wilde's 'The Importance of Being Earnest'.

John had changed his shirt twice. The blue one he had picked out earlier that day (which looked much better against his skin) was lying, forgotten, on the bed, as he buttoned up a green and brown plaid one Sherlock absolutely detested. He then nodded pointedly at the mirror and threw a brownish grey cardigan on top. It was far too much effort for such an unimportant dinner in Sherlock’s opinion. He’d never try to dress smart to impress Mycroft. But when he’d pointed that out over breakfast this morning, John replied that it was because he was always wearing hundreds of pounds worth of Savile Row suits, so Sherlock let it go. 

‘Did you remember to put the lemonade on the ice box?’ asked John as he adjusted the collar of his (hideous) shirt. Sherlock sighed. 

‘Yes, I did. John, I have an eidetic memory, do you think I’d forget something as banal as putting a bottle of lemonade in the refrigerator?’ 

John turned to glare at him. ‘Well, I don’t know,’ he began, ‘because it was so easy for you to forget that we had dinner reservations two months ago before you jumped on a plane to Rome to solve a case. There was also the time you conveniently forgot that I was allergic to apricots before doing that experiment on allergens on me.’ 

They stared at each other for long minutes, and Sherlock for once was the first to look away. ‘Very well. While you finish prettying yourself up for your ungrateful sister, I will be checking on the lemonade in the ice box.’ 

At that John tutted and walked over to Sherlock. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so bitter. I’m just really nervous about this dinner,’ he said, and stroked the nape of Sherlock’s neck with his right hand, reaching with the left to pull him closer by the waist. ‘I haven’t seen Harry in so long…’ 

Sherlock gave him a small smile, ‘I know. It will be fine, you don’t have to worry.’ 

‘She said she’s been doing really well with the abstinence from alcohol, but I don’t know…’ 

‘John,’ Sherlock said firmly, looking deep into his eyes, ‘stop worrying. We’ll eat that lamb thing you made, drink the iced lemonade which is in the bloody ice box, and have a jolly good time.’ 

John giggled and nodded. ‘You are right, of course. It’ll be fine. Thank you, love.’ He reached up and kissed Sherlock lightly on the lips. Sherlock pressed back and kissed John more deeply, eliciting some delicious sounds from his throat, and it was all he could do to stop himself from pulling that hideous shirt off his partner right now and having him there and then. But the buzzer interrupted them. John pulled away first and sighed. 

‘To be continued,’ he winked and laughed, then walked away to open the door. 

Sherlock sighed again and growled. ‘Fine,’ he said to the empty room, and followed John out to meet Harry. 

* 

Harry Watson was a petite but stocky woman. Her arms were a bit on the thick side, her thighs touched in a way that made her self-conscious, and had recently got her hair cut in a bob that did not suit her. Her hair was the same dishwater blonde colour as her brother’s, but somewhat duller, and her skin was paler. She didn’t have John’s blue eyes, but rather wide-set hazel eyes that seemed to be permanently bloodshot, surrounded by bags and a tiredness that only came with years of substance abuse. 

Sherlock observed all that as she walked through the door followed by John. She was clutching her bag with tiny, veiny hands, and her fingernails had been recently polished, but not manicured. So she was either still struggling with money due to her alcoholism, or couldn’t be bothered to get her nails done professionally. A glance at her bag confirmed the first deduction — the shape of a flask was clearly visible on the bottom of her bag. 

‘I’m glad you could make it, Harry,’ John said. She shot him a forced smile and nodded. ‘You remember Sherlock.’ 

Sherlock extended a hand for her to shake but did not smile. He didn’t trust Harry, mostly because of all the pain she had caused John over the years, but also because there was a faint scent of alcohol as he approached her, meaning she had had a drink earlier that day and that her “abstinence” was not going as well as she had promised John. By now she was already very good at hiding her habit from her brother who was always an optimist when it came to Harry, even after all this time, but from Sherlock there was nothing she could hide. That flask in her bag was probably half empty already. 

‘Welcome,’ Sherlock said simply, and waved her into the flat. John offered a tour but she turned it down, which deflated him a bit, though Sherlock could see he wanted to keep the smile up for Harry. 

‘All right. I’ll go check on the food, then. Sherlock, why don’t you offer her a seat and a drink?’ then he walked back into the kitchen. 

‘Please have a seat,’ Sherlock said, showing her the sofa. ‘I don’t think I need to offer you a drink, it seems like you’ve already had enough.’ 

‘What are you—’ she began, but was interrupted by John. 

‘Food’s ready! Can you set the table while I get the dishes ready?’ John asked from the kitchen. Sherlock and Harry looked up. They glared at each other for a minute before joining John and getting the table ready for eating. 

John had spent the entire day before cleaning the kitchen, so it was spotless, rid of any dangerous experiments, and smelling only of the roast lamb John cooked. Lamb was the only thing Sherlock would eat with gusto, and Harry wasn’t a particularly picky eater, so it was the perfect dish for this dinner. And with some veggies and rice, it was quite good. Sherlock really enjoyed John’s cooking, though he rarely voiced it.

‘Smells good,’ said Harry, taking the seat closer to the door. Sherlock sat opposite her by the cabinets, and John sat between them with his back to the sink. He smiled at his sister and began serving the food. By each of their plates was a glass of the cold lemonade — the cloudy type that looked like proper lime juice, which John always found at a good price on Lidl — Sherlock had indeed remembered to put in the fridge. 

‘Thanks, Harry. I hope it tastes good as well. I got these knew flavour packet things and decided to test them today, which wasn’t perhaps the wisest choice,’ John said with a chuckle. ‘If it’s inedible, you can always have only the potatoes and the rice.’ 

Harry smiled and started to cut up pieces of her lamb. Sherlock was already chewing on his, and hummed in appreciation, which did not go unnoticed by John — thankfully — who turned to beam at him. 

‘Oh! Some dressing for the salad! Hang on,’ John stood to get the dressing from the cabinet, and Harry, perhaps thinking she was invisible, pulled the flask from her bag under her chair and poured a little of the transparent liquid in the lemonade. Sherlock stared wide-eyed, and she defiantly closed the flask and put it back, staring at him as if daring him to say anything to John. 

John, in turn, groaned. ‘I gave it to Mrs Hudson yesterday. I’ll just go downstairs and get it real quick.’ 

‘Johnny, it’s fine,’ Harry said. 

‘No, no, it’s all right, just two minutes. I’ll be right back.’ With that, John walked out of the room and Sherlock stood up. 

‘How dare you?’ 

‘Sherlock, this is none of your business.’ 

‘Of course it is my business. John is your brother and my partner. He worries about you constantly, he feels guilty about not being there enough for you, about not helping you get better, it _pains_ to see you ruin yourself like this, and that pain makes it my business because it’s John’s business.’ 

‘What he doesn’t see won’t hurt him,’ was all she said. Sherlock saw red. He wanted to rip her apart, to make her disappear, just so that John could be rid of her and all the worry she brought. 

‘So you are just going to lie to him forever? You realise he knows. He knows you are not better, but he is a good man, and he is hopeful that one day you will be willing to change. And yet there you sit, in out house, eating our food, lying to his face! How dare you?’ Sherlock all but screamed. Harry’s eyes were redder now, and not because of the alcohol. She was about to cry, but Sherlock was having none of it. ‘Don’t start with that nonsense. You have no right to cry, to look for pity. You will find none here. If I were you, I would leave right now and only return when you have actual improvement to show.’ 

Harry stood. Her eyes were dark and her cheeks were stained with tears. 

‘I can’t stop,’ she whispered. Sherlock bristled. 

‘You can if you want to. John wants you to.’ 

‘I know…’ 

Sherlock looked her over and then sat back down. ‘You do not deserve him as a brother.’ 

Harry sniffled. ‘I know.’ And walked out. 

As soon as she left, Sherlock threw the contents of her glass down the drain and sat back down. Two minutes later, John walked back in, a bottle of salad dressing in hand. He looked around the room confused, looking for his sister. 

‘Harriet had to leave. An emergency at work of some sort, I deleted it.’ 

John sighed. ‘Oh. Well.’ 

‘The lamb is delicious,’ Sherlock told him with a small smile, and John nodded. 

‘Thanks, love.’ 

* 

_Six months later_

‘So, what prompted this meeting?’ asked John in lieu of greeting as he sat across from Harry at the Pret near her office. She sighed. 

‘“Hi, Harry. How are you? Really, that’s nice. I am good as well—”’ she said trying to imitate his voice, but John stopped her. 

‘Harry.’ 

‘Fine. I’ve, hm, got something for you.’ 

‘Oh?’ 

‘Yeah. You know I’ve been going to AA meetings, trying, really trying, to stop drinking, and I’ve actually been doing really well.’ 

‘And I’m really proud of you for doing that,’ he told her, and she smiled. 

‘I know. Which is why I want you to have this.’ Harry reached into her bag and pulled out her coin purse, and out of it she took a blue chip. ‘It’s my AA 6-month chip. I’ve been completely sober for 6 months now.’ 

John’s eyes widened and moistened. He looked at his sister, whose cheeks were rosier, whose eyes were brighter, whose whole demeanour seemed happier and healthier. He took the chip and stared at it, smiling. 

‘Harry, I am… beyond words. This is amazing, I’m so proud of what you’ve done.’ 

‘Thanks, Johnny.’ She was smiling as well. 

‘Can I just ask, though… what was it that really prompted this sudden change?’ 

Harry blushed and looked down at her own hands. With a sigh, she explained, ‘it was, well, Sherlock.’ 

‘What?’ 

‘I know! But that night when I went to your flat for dinner, he was very firm with me, told me that I shouldn’t take you for granted, that I didn’t deserve you as a brother because I lied to you and kept you worrying about me. And he was right, of course. As soon as I got home that night, I decided to change.’ 

John was silent for a long time, looking from the chip to his sister. Their coffees grew cold on the side of the table as John thought and thought. 

‘Wow.’ 

‘Yeah.’ 

He smiled. ‘I’m not worried anymore,’ he said, simply, making Harry smile widely at him. 

* 

When John got home from the meeting with Harry that afternoon, Sherlock was sitting on his chair, reading a book with a furrowed brow. John walked over to his partner, took the book away, and leaned down to kiss him deeply. 

Sherlock’s lips were sweet from tea and biscuits, and his whole body was pliant under John’s ministrations. It was warm and comforting and soft. John slid his hands through Sherlock’s hair, eliciting delicious moans, and their mouths and tongues devoured deeper. 

After a few minutes, John pulled back with a grin. 

‘What was that for?’ Sherlock asked, a matching grin on his reddened lips. 

‘Because I love you, that’s all.’

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and please let me know what you think! 
> 
> (I apologise if this was awful, I think I may have had some talent once but it's gone now???) 
> 
> You can check out my writing blog [here](http://writingquill.tumblr.com). 
> 
> Cheers x


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